Key Harbor
by ShannonKind
Summary: Starting a routine case with his brother, Dean approaches a gate to leave, but a hunter Sam's never met steps through it, while Dean meets a Sam who doesn't recognize him. With new partners, how will the boys fix this? Team Free Will Season 5 Warnings: coarse language, violence, minor character death No parings or romance, just action and plot.
1. Chapter 1

Pete Fulton slowly rode his bike home from work. Small for sixteen, he looked about three years younger than his age, but that didn't matter. By this time next year he would have his license, and he wouldn't have to work at the marina on the bay. Working outside all summer had muscled and tanned his body nicely, not that anyone could tell under the layers of dirt from the day's cleaning. He arrived at a small two story house and brought his bike inside. It didn't pay to leave it in the yard with all the tourists around. "Hey, mom! I'm home!"

Pete heard his mom call from the kitchen. "Go wash up for supper!" He smiled through slightly crooked teeth that probably could have used braces and headed up stairs.

Unusually, the first door on the left upstairs was closed, so he knocked before heading into the bathroom. "Hey, Ryan! Mom says wash up! Dinner's almost ready." No response. Pete ran his hand through his blonde curls. "Hey, kid! Come on!" He opened the door and stared in horror at what he found. "Mom!"

The thunder of Lindsey Fulton's feet up the stairs caused her son to look at her, and she had never seen his face so pale. She peeked into the room, terrified of what she would find. Everything looked in order. Her husband's computer was on the desk; his books were neat, certificates on the wall. The office was fine. "Where's Ryan's stuff?" Pete accused. Lindsey looked at her son in shock. "Where's my brother?" Her light blue eyes opened wide in hurt and confusion as her usually calm son pushed her into the wall. "What the hell is going on here?" he screamed. Lindsey reached out to her son, tears in her eyes, but he grabbed her arms and twisted, bringing her over the stairs. He let go when his mother overbalanced, and she tumbled down the stairs, to the open front door.

Peter Fulton stared down the steps in horror at his mother and a pair of black dress shoes standing in the doorway. He looked up to see the business suit of his father, Andrew, gray eyes wide with confusion, phone in hand. "Nine one one. What is your emergency?"

**Chapter 1**

Sam barely glanced up from his laptop as Dean opened the motel room door. Although he was the younger brother, Sam was big, almost too big to fit at the small generic table in this cheap room. The décor was supposed to be whimsically nautical, but came off looking like an old lady's shell themed bathroom. "So get this," he began, turning the screen around to face his brother, "there have been two more patients admitted to the psych ward with this amnesia."

Dean struggled through the front door with the key, bag of food, and two large coffees. He dropped the food on the table and fished his brother's pancakes off of his breakfast burrito. "More freak thunderstorms?" he asked. For once, wearing a black tee shirt without his father's leather jacket, he almost looked like any other young man headed to the Jersey shore for a few days of fun, but it had been a long time since he last took a day off. He peeled the wrapper off his fast food breakfast and took a bite.

"No, that's just it. There's no evidence of anything like that this time. The bank manager, Fredericks, takes his yacht out. Witness reports say there was 'blue lightning' when he brought it back to the marina, and suddenly, he doesn't remember he's married. Then the teacher's walking around in last week's storm, finds the police station and tells them that she's been kidnapped by 'some guy,' who it turns out is her brother. She doesn't remember him. But now we've got two more, no demonic omens. I'm thinking we're looking for something else."

"So now you don't think this has anything to do with breaking the final seal? So what, like some kind of freak that eats memories? No such thing. Are you sure this is even our kinda' case?"

Sam cut him off with a shake of his head, and took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "I still think so, Dean. This kid, Pete Fulton, his dad called the cops when he attacked his mom. He keeps saying his little brother has disappeared, and he seems to think mom had something to do with it."

"So mom eighty-sixes the ankle biter and the big brother's in the nuthouse?"

"No, no! Peter doesn't have any siblings." Sam opened the tiny container of maple syrup and poured a little on his breakfast. "But according to the psych reports, he's convinced he has a seven year old brother named Ryan and is desperate for anyone to go out and look for him. Hasn't slept in two days. And," Sam paused for another drink, and Dean rolled his eyes, "according to hospital records, seven years ago, momma Fulton gave birth, but her second son was stillborn."

"Okay." The older brother swallowed before continuing. "So we've got the kid, Mr.…" he checked the name on the laptop screen, "Allan Fredricks, bank manager, and Donna Gregory, tourist and teacher. Who else?"

"Cop. Officer Damon Carlson, lived in Ocean Township all his life. Called into the station to report that he was going to check," Sam turned the computer back towards himself and typed until he could get to the official document, "quote, 'blue lights on the water' and was found two hours later trying to break into his parents' old house."

"So the other vics, they see these 'blue lights'' too?" Sam nodded, his fork to his mouth. "Dammit. Here's a hint, you see weird freaky shit, you stay the hell away, people!" His brother inclined his head, if only. "Alright, so what do they have in common?"

"Near as I can tell, our best bet is here." He typed again and showed Dean the computer screen. "Key Harbor Marina, owned by Mrs. Ellen Johnson." The website showed pictures of different boats to rent, and advertisements for tours, fishing trips, just about anything you could do on the water. "Pete worked there, Mr. Fredericks owned a boat, and our teacher's brother said she was looking to book a fishing trip for them."

"And it's right on the bay," finished Dean. "Okay. So what do you think? If it's not a demon?"

Sam cleaned up his breakfast and threw out the trash. "I don't know. Maybe some kind of ghost, or a cursed object."

"Hey, maybe it's a mermaid," said Dean, smiling.

"Yeah Dean. It's a mermaid," Sam deadpanned. "Suits in fifteen?"

"Yeah, yeah." Dean rolled his eyes, but took out his trash before going to the small motel closet that smelled of stale cologne.

By nine o'clock, the boys were stepping out of the black Impala into the salty air of Ocean, New Jersey. Sam pushed his brown hair out of his face and straightened his suit jacket, checking to make sure that his pistol was stuck in the back of his belt. He glanced at Dean who was wiping sweat from his brow already.

"Damn Feds need a new uniform. It's the middle of freaking August here." He jealously looked at the other beach goers in their short sleeved shirts.

"Well let's get this done and maybe we can get out of here before it gets really hot. You ready?" Dean grumbled something, but checked his gun and the machete hidden down his leg were in place before leading the way into the marina.

"Hi, welcome to Key Harbor. How can I help you gentlemen today?" The woman who greeted them was about forty years old, with a professional pink smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Even in her short sleeved gray blouse she was sweating already, and brushed her brown bangs back into place.

"Agent John Fogerty, FBI. This is my partner, Agent Clifford." The brothers flashed their badges. "Can you tell us anything about what's been going on here?"

The woman wrung her hands. "It's so sad. Peter has been working for me for two years now, going out on fishing trips as an assistant, cleaning our fleet after they came in, you know? He's always been such a good boy. And Mr. Fredericks not remembering Mrs. Fredericks? He brings her here every other weekend for a night out together, just the two of them. Honestly, I'm not sure why I even have this place open today, except its tourist season. I feel like I should be doing something, I don't know."

"Mrs. Johnson," began 'Agent Clifford,' pushing his long hair from his face again, "other than what's been happening to your customers, has anything unusual been going on in the marina? Anything new? Is there anyone who would want to hurt your business?"

"I don't…No. We get customers that moor their boats here for a few days and leave again, but that's pretty routine. I can't think of anyone that would want to hurt the business, it brings in plenty of tourists, and it's not like we have any competition."

"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson," said the other agent. "Do you mind if we have a look around?"

"Of course." Agent Fogerty scanned the room. The front wall was a series of large windows keeping the room brightly lit. There was a door in the back behind the desk that appeared to lead to a small office, and a second door on the side of the building that was propped open to the bay. No wonder it was so hot in there. He headed into the office taking something black from his jacket pocket.

"Mrs. Johnson, I would feel much safer if you went home for a while. Just until we can be sure there's no gas leak or something in the building causing these symptoms." The woman gasped, but nodded. "Tell you what, you head on home, and I will personally give you a call when we finish up here?" She nodded.

While Sam dutifully took down the owner's home phone number, Dean began their work in earnest. He looked at the homemade EMF reader in his hand, and slowly walked around the room, well-practiced green eyes searching. The first few LEDs lit up on the top of the detector when he brought it near the computer, but he ignored the background noise. Steady hands ran up and down the desk, the bookshelves, and molding, looking for movement or bumps that might hide voodoo, charms, or hex bags. The clean lines of the ultramodern office furniture made quick work of the room, and he headed back out to the front.

Leaning over the front desk, head deep in the crisp new ledger, Sam didn't notice Dean come back in. "Anything?"

Sam shook his head. "It looks like they rebuilt this place recently, some kind of fire. But I've got nothing else out of the ordinary. You?"

Dean began scanning the outer room for electromagnetic waves. "Got me. No sulfur, no creepy-ass sigils, and EMF is coming up empty. As far as I can tell, monster's choosing his vics here, but it has nothing to do with this place." He turned off the EMF reader and put it in his jacket pocket.

Eyebrows raised, Sam looked at his brother. "Alright. I'll stay here, look over the books, maybe I can find something. Why don't you head to the hospital and see if you can get anything from the victims?"

Dean was about to reply when a blue flash appeared at the front door. "You see that?"

"Yeah." Both brothers drew their pistols, and Sam moved into the middle of the room. A few feet apart, the boys stood back to back, keeping visual on the room. Eyes wide, adrenaline pumping, they looked for something to fight. Silently they waited, watching. Ten seconds. Twenty-five. A minute. Sam put up his gun, still wary. "What was that?"

"Damned if I know." Dean pointed his gun down, but kept his finger on the trigger. Wouldn't do for someone to pass by those big windows and see two grown men, guns drawn, aiming at nothing. He risked a glance at his brother but only saw his confusion reflected back at him. "You forget anything yet?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Don't think so. You?" Dean mimicked the gesture, and started to holster his pistol.

Again, the front door lit up blue, as if a tube of blue neon and been turned on around the outside, and transparent blue waves shimmered inside the rectangle. The boys' eyes followed as the neon arced from the front door to the windows, to the office door and back, chasing itself around like a string of Christmas lights until it settled on the open bay doors. Dean approached slowly, gun in his right hand, his left hand gesturing for Sam to stay back. Without warning, the lights jumped again, this time outside to a gate in front of a small boat.

The brothers approached, guns drawn. Seagulls cawed, but no one noticed the sound. Gentle waves buoyed the quiet form of the Amphitrite II, gently thrumming its keyhole trim decorations against the dock. On board, a tall man stood in a hood despite the heat, his face contorted into a grimace as he faced the blue lights. He brought his hands together as the lights crackled and faded, and Dean broke into a run, sprinting up the ramp toward the man. Dean fired a shot, hitting his mark. Unfortunately, the man hardly shuddered from the impact, and continued his spellwork. Pocketing his pistol, Dean drew a machete from his belt, the sheath hidden in his dress slacks. Arms above his head, he heard "Dean, no!" as he swung the blade down. The man's head severed from his shoulders and rolled to the deck.

"I got this," said Dean, amused that his brother was warning him. For what? He watched the head settle for another second. Free from the hood, Dean could see that the monster he had killed had two faces, one on each side of the head. "Dude, I killed Quirrel!" he said, holding up the head to display to Sam. A moment later, the head facing Dean opened its gold eyes, frowned, and disappeared, along with the body. "What the hell?!"

"Dean, get back here." Sam put his gun away, but didn't stop looking around, waiting for a golden eyed, two faced man to come jumping out at him. Dean walked down the ramp, sheathing his machete and pulling out his pistol again. Eyes scanning for the monster, he didn't notice the blue lights line the gate to the dock just as he was about to walk through.

Sam shot a glance at his brother just as he broke into the blue waves between the lights. Dean seemed to shimmer in the air for a moment, and shrink before stepping through. Bright green eyes scanned Sam's shocked face. "Jesus, Sammy. You look like you've seen a ghost." But the voice was too high pitched for Dean. It belonged to a young woman in a gray dress suit, dark blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, although wisps were falling out around her face. She wore no jewelry except a ring on her right hand, a simple silver double band.

Quicker than a curse, Sam lifted his gun again. "Who the hell are you?"

"Dude, what the hell?!" asked the girl. She knocked the gun out of Sam's hand, and it skidded across the board walk. Sam grabbed her arms and tried to hold her, but she knew how to fight a man bigger than her. Twisting, she brought her knee up into Sam's groin and used his moment of pain to sweep his feet from under him, forcing him to the ground. Not willing to use a weapon on him, she pulled a zip tie from her skirt pocket and tied his hands behind his back. One knee on his back, she looked down at his face. "Let's try this again, little brother. You forget anything yet?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hang on my lovelies. This is where it gets a little weird. The first shift or two might be a little hard to follow, but I have faith in you all.

See chapter end for more notes.

**Chapter 2**

_Eyes closed, Dean took stock. His wrists were bound to the arms of some kind of chair, but his legs were free. Something thick was running down the right side of his face from over his eye, and he knew it was blood. "I know you're awake," he heard Sam say impatiently. Letting out a sigh of relief, Dean stopped pretending. The blow to his head must have been worse than he thought, because the white walls of the marina office were tinged pink through his bloodshot eyes. He squeezed them closed to try and clear them before looking for Sam._

_He had to scan most of the room before Dean caught sight of his brother. It was just the two of them in there. That meant they had time to figure out what was going on. Breathe. Sam didn't look too beaten up, although there was a swollen spot on his jaw that would probably bruise. Dean shook his head, trying to focus. Ok, that was a bad idea. He grimaced. Sam was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, feet up on the desk, just waiting. "Sammy?" Dean asked thickly._

_Sam's feet hit the floor with an audible thump as he stood up. "How the hell do you even know my name?" he demanded, making his way in front of Dean, who was staring blankly. Sam crouched down to look him in the eye, aware enough to stay out of reach of Dean's cheap dress shoes. "Get your head on straight, because I'm only going to ask this once. Where is my sister?"_

_Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dude, what?" Sam's massive right hand swung wide and connected with Dean's skull. Struggling to stay awake, Dean cursed. "That monster must have messed with your head, man, just like those people in the psych ward. Just untie me, and we'll figure this out, okay? Just like we've always done."_

_Sam stood. "I'm sorry, what? 'Like always?' You're saying we're partners or something?" Keeping an eye on Dean, Sam paced the room, running his fingers through his hair. "And you want me to believe that my sister, who practically raised me since I was six months old, is what? Dead? Or never born? And instead, dad, or Bobby or someone paired me up with some-" he gestured at Dean in disgust, "male-modeling troglodyte grunt?"_

_Even in his predicament, head still spinning, Dean managed to look more offended than anything else. "Hey! I am not a gr- Wait. A frog-la-what?"_

"_What did you do with my sister, Dee?"_

"_Your sister? Dee? As in, Deanna? Like, Deanna Campbell, Deanna?" He took a breath and swallowed hard. "Dammit. That monster is trying to turn me into a chick." Sam frowned. "You don't want to believe me? Fine. Call Cas. You still remember Castiel, right? Angel? Dark hair? Dirty trench coat?"_

The phone rang several times before Cas picked up. "Cas man, where are you? Something's wrong with Sam. I need your help."

"Who is this?"

Dee almost dropped the phone where she stood over Sam on the otherwise empty dock. "Shit," she muttered, turning her head so the phone wouldn't pick it up. "Look, I know you think -Hell, I don't even know what you think. And I'm sorry if you're pissed at me and I'll work on it, okay? But I don't know what to do here" She pulled the hair tie off of her bun, letting her blonde hair curl against her shoulders. "Something messed with his memories. What if it's like Men in Black? You know? Where they keep zapping people with the memory thing and it fries their brains forever? What if it fries Sam's brains, Cas?" She looked down at her little brother with concern as he lay below her, trussed and trying to shout for Cas's attention through the phone.

"Where are you?" Castiel finally growled.

She rattled off the address. "We're on the dock behind the marina." A whoosh told her that Cas had used his angelic powers to meet her and her brother. Dee felt her shoulders start to relax for the first time since breakfast. Seeing his familiar dark hair and blue eyes, she started to feel like things might go their way. Sure, Cas was cut off from heaven, but he must still have the juice to fix Sam. She'd already ganked the monster. They could go back to hunting Lucifer and pretend none of this shit ever happened.

The Angel threw a hard look in Dee's direction before bending down and touching the plastic ties between Sam's wrists with two fingers. The ties melted off, and he offered Sam a hand to stand up. Dee raised an eyebrow.

"_He doesn't know who I am, Cas! What the hell?" Cas moved toward Dean, still tied to the chair, while Sam closed his cell phone. He slowly walked around the chair, eyeing Dean like something dangerous. Dean gave him his best innocent smile. "You know, the thing a *human* would do is untie his friends."_

_Cas stopped. He loomed over Dean until he was just inches from his face. "I am not your friend."_

_Dean's jaw twitched for a moment, green eyes searching blue for a sign of humor before an angry mask schooled his features. "Damnit, Cas! I'm Dean Winchester, you pulled my ass from Hell! Untie me, fix Sammy, and let's go. We have work to do."_

_Head tilted quizzically, eyebrows furrowed; Cas raised two fingers toward Dean's head. Dean flinched backward, but Sam's knots were too strong, and Cas touched his temple gently. He breathed a loud sigh of relief when Cas pulled back. "You have the same Enochian symbols I gave Sam and Dee," he mused. Dean started to protest, but Cas lowered his hand to Dean's chest and pressed inside. Dean screamed as an unearthly yellow glow surrounded the place where Cas's arm met his body. _

_Cas stood perfectly still for several moments, beads of sweat on his vessel's forehead. More than once, Sam tried to approach the Angel, only to meet Castiel's warning glare. Finally, after three long minutes of silent, tense waiting, Cas pulled his hand away, shoulders drooping like some heavy weight had been loaded on him. Dean did not move, his eyes were closed, his face pale and drawn. Slowly Cas looked up, blue eyes meeting hazel. "This is not your sister." Sam looked concerned, but also bemused. That much was obvious. "This man has a soul that matches hers perfectly. Down to the last detail, the last stitch from when I put her back together in Hell. Whatever's at work here, it's more powerful than any Angel I've seen, except maybe an archangel." Gathering his thoughts and simplifying them for humans was not easy, and Cas stared into the distance while he spoke to avoid distraction. "Based on the evidence of his soul, and what you said you were searching for here, I believe this may be your Dee, from a universe where she is male. But even angels cannot break through those barriers." Noticing Dean begin to stir, Cas moved to undo his bonds. He looked back and forth between Sam and this new man whose body was so strange, but whose soul was so familiar. "What have the two of you gotten us into?"_

Dee was still trying to loosen up her neck and shoulders when they walked out of the Marina toward the Impala. Cas had used some of his mojo to heal her up, so she didn't hurt, exactly, but having him practically feel up her soul was all kinds of dirty touching she didn't even want to think about. What she needed, right now, was her baby. Black steel, chrome, and the open road. And a beer. Damn, she could use a beer.

Sam might not have known Dee, but Dee knew her brother well enough to recognize the agitation written on his face, and she knew there would be no road trip, no beer, until this guy got his brother back. Shit, that was weird. Dee tried not to think about that either.

"Dean had the keys on him." Dee looked up at Sammy's voice. Huh? Oh! The keys to the Impala. She hesitated for a minute. Would her key even work? Well, it was that or walk back to the hotel. Three people in business suits, one in a trench coat, in the middle of August on the beach. That wouldn't look weird at all. She grimaced at the thought and pulled the keys from her pocket. The key ring was always a reassuring weight, the silver plated round heavy in her hand. There was a clatter at her feet that made her look down. Something had fallen from her pocket, and she picked it up.

It seemed to be a key, well, kind of. It certainly hadn't been there when she drove the Impala here this morning. It was longer than the keys on her keychain, and it looked old. Blue-ish green corrosion thickly covered the round head of the key, which was a little bigger than a quarter. Whatever it was supposed to have opened, the rust on the shaft probably wouldn't even get through the keyhole at this point. "What's that?" Sam asked.

"Not sure," she replied, handing it over the roof of the car. "It's not mine." Sam took the key and ran a thumb over the head, frowning. She watched him for a moment. How the hell was this not her brother? Same stupid haircut. Same clumsy hands. Same giant frame he likes to pretend he bulked up so that he doesn't look like a telephone pole, but she knows it's because he's terrified he'll gain weight if he doesn't exercise, like before his last growth spurt. She'd spent three schools fighting the urge to knock a couple of guys on their asses for calling him fat, but she knew it would only be worse for him if a girl took care of what he couldn't. Stupid macho crap.

Cas shifted beside Dee, she'd been standing there too long. She held the key up, a hopeful gesture, then lowered it and tried the lock. The key turned smoothly. Thank god. Dee slid into her familiar spot and heard Sam and Cas slide into the car. She stroked the steering wheel lovingly. "Knew I could always count on you, baby."

Sam stiffened beside her, his hands clenching into fists. "My brother's pretty possessive about his car. Maybe I should drive."

Dee scoffed as she smoothly slid the Impala into gear. "What, you think I can't drive cause I'm a woman?" she teased. She laughed as Sam fumbled for words that wouldn't make him look even worse. "I was helping fix this girl up while you were still in diapers, Gigantor. Relax. Your big brother will come home to find her in great shape."

Sam grumbled silently for a moment, but spent most of the ride back to the motel trying to scrape some of the corrosion from the key. "Hey Cas, there's something imprinted on here, can you make it out?" He reached over the bench seat so the angel could get a better look, just as Dee pulled into a parking space.

"It's old," observed Cas, following the Winchesters to their hotel room.

"Well you check that out," said Dee, flinging off her suit jacket. "I need to get out of these clothes. God. I can't move in this skirt."

_As soon as they got into the hotel room, Dean stripped his jacket and tie. He was unbuttoning his shirt before he noticed Sam's stare. "What?"_

_"You're just going to get undressed? In front of me? In front of Cas?"_

_"We're all dudes, Sam. I'm just changing my shirt." He pulled his shirt off and grabbed for his duffle bag. He knew Sam was probably making a face behind him, but ignored it when he heard the rustle that meant Sam was getting out of his suit, too. He opened the zipper and pulled the bag open. "Son of a bitch." He held up the first thing he found on the top. A fitted Led Zeppelin shirt that would just about fit over his leg, let alone his torso. The next thing out wasn't much better. A pair of cut off denim shorts with a black leather belt already wound through the loops. "Do girls still even wear these?"_

_Sam grabbed the clothes from Dean's hands. "Get out of my sister's stuff, you perv," he huffed, as he threw everything back in the duffle and zipped it._

_Dean held his hands up in surrender. "Hey Cas, buddy? You got anything on that key yet?" he half joked, but didn't take his eyes off of Sam. _

_"Actually, yes." Cas was sitting at the table staring at the key, which now only had a slight green patina to the copper, thanks to whatever Angel shit he had done to clean it. "There's definitely some kind of markings on here," he continued_

_Dean slid into the chair opposite and plucked the key out of his friend's hand. Well, the other him. That was a her. Damn this was too confusing. "What is that, some kind of bundle? Like hay or something? Is it a farm key?"_

_Sam came up behind him still in his dress slacks but with a short sleeve v neck shirt to replace the button down. He threw another Tshirt on the table. "Put some clothes on," he told Dean as he grabbed the key. "That's wheat," he said, noticing the tufts on the top edges of the bundle. He laid the key on the table and opened the top on his laptop, loading the page. A few key words and he was turning the computer around to Dean. "Look familiar?" _

_The search screen had come up with a number of coins, each showing a profile view of a two-headed man. Or actually, god. "Portunes? What the hell is that?"_

_Sam frowned. "Roman god, looks like. Patron of harbors, store houses, war. But what does that have to do with us? Why would he take my sister?"_

_Cas frowned. "Portunes. Also the god of doors and gateways. He would have the power to open a door between the worlds." He looked up at Sam. "I believe he could bring your sister back. We should try to contact him."_

_Dean blushed, and Sam looked sheepish. "I may have cut his head off."_

"_Dee too," added Sam. "But there's got to be another way to get her back, Cas. Isn't there another god we could summon? Or a spell?"_

"_Its not that easy, Sam. But gods don't just die. There are many stories of the death of various gods, and they always come back. We simply need to find a way to bring back Portunes. He can be summoned on his feast day."_

_Sam checked the computer. "August 14th. That's tomorrow. Okay. How do we summon a dead god?"_

**A/N: **If it wasn't clear, every break switches between universes. Also, sorry for the delay. Chapters 2 and 3 are always a struggle for me. But the plot is boiling in my head and I'm not giving up.


	3. Chapter 3

Dee kicked back on the motel bed, wearing a pair of Sam's jeans (Dean's were just a little too tight in the hips) and one of Dean's dark gray T shirts. She watched Sam worry a moat into the floor with his pacing while she nursed her beer. It wasn't much of a moat, the room wasn't very big. Six giant steps to the right towards the bathroom, six giant steps to the left towards the door, then back again to the - holy shit! You would think at this point she would be used to Cas just popping up unexpectedly. Sam stopped pacing and Dee sat up a little straighter in the bed.

Castiel held out a large black cloth, which had been folded into a bag that clearly held something heavy. He laid it on the table slowly, but there was still a loud thump. "This is everything you need to complete the spell tomorrow." He glowered at Sam, but the taller man didn't react. "I trust that you will quickly return things to normal." The Angel's face seemed to harden even more when he looked at the woman sitting on the bed. "Dee. It has been an experience."

She stood up at that dismissal. "Whoa whoa whoa! Just where do you think you're going, flyboy?"

Cas took a deep breath and glared at her, catching her bottle green eyes with his own. "I do not know that everything in our worlds runs along the same parallel. However, here, Lucifer has risen and we are trying to stay one step ahead of him."

She put on a fake frown. "So you're saying you don't want to walk me home, handsome?" she asked, sprawling herself back across the bed. Cas scowled and she laughed, so Sam stepped forward.

"We need Dean to fight Lucifer, Cas. I need Dean. Please, help me get him back."

Cas took a moment to consider, and Dee found herself fidgeting with the motel sheets. Sam had always had the ability to pout with the best of them, but missing his brother, that was a truly pitiful sight. The angel nodded. "I will help you, Sam. Although I fail to see what good I can do while we wait until Portunes' feast day."

Dee smiled, "Don't worry, Cas. We've got plenty of breaking and entering to do between now and then. But I think first, we need to go shopping."

Dee stood at the entrance in the back of the hospital, tapping a cigarette carton against her blue scrub pants. If anyone had asked, she would have insisted it wasn't a nervous gesture. Her dark blonde hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, and a fake nurse's ID badge was clipped to the top, the same blue as the pants, but with little rainbows in a pattern over all of the material. She looked up when the door opened, and smiled at the not unattractive man who stepped through. "Got a light?" she asked, and he didn't notice her kick a rock so it skidded between the door and the doorframe so it couldn't shut and lock. His gray eyes were locked on hers in a predatory smile.

"For you? Anything," he said, offering a lighter. "Although as a doctor, I should probably warn you against those."

She smiled back at him. "I take care of myself other ways," she purred. "Lots of exercise." And by the way his eyes drifted down over her breasts and lower, she knew that he would be eating out of her hand. "Tell you what, you set me up with a light, and I've got a nice little spot I could show you how well I take care of myself. You got a few minutes?" The doctor stammered for a minute, but she was already walking away, letting her hips sway to some beat only she could hear.

Cas and Sam darted to the door as soon as the doctor was sufficiently in control of himself to follow the woman. Sam was also wearing blue scrubs, though he drew the line at rainbows. They disappeared inside the door that had been left ajar for them, and returned a several minutes later with white bundles under their arms. Just in time to see the doctor sauntering back to the door, looking disheveled and a little dazed. They nodded to him on their way out, the suited man kicking the rock out of the way so the door would close behind the doctor.

The pair waited a moment until Dee came bouncing from between some parked cars, her hair and makeup somehow still perfect. Sam looked at her for a moment. "So, what do you do when the doctor isn't a guy?" he asked.

She smiled. "That's what I have you for. I taught my brother everything he knows. But here's the real question," she said, taking the lab coat Cas had been carrying for her and putting it on over her scrubs, "what do you and your brother do when you have to flirt with a guy?" Sam looked shocked, his mouth hanging open, he looked to Cas, but the Angel was deeply engrossed in studying that strange key again. Funny, he hadn't had it out a second ago. Sam tried to stammer an answer once or twice, before finally settling on just giving her a bitchface. She laughed. "Don't tell me, you make it into a pissing contest, don't you?" The bitchface ratcheted up two or three degrees. "You know, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Sammy." She looked him over, making sure his own lab coat laid right over his scrubs, before leading the way to the front of the building. "Cas, you sure you're good with this?"

He reached into his coat pocket, touching something before nodding. I believe I will perform adequately."

"Ok," said Sam, "let's do this."

_Castiel led the way through the double glass doors, trenchcoat flowing gently behind him. Sam and Dean, labcoats open over their blue and maroon scrubs, followed at his heels. The african american woman at the front desk barely looked up as the three men entered. She was fairly young, only twenty seven. Dean gave her a flirty smile, to which she rolled her eyes. It wasn't like she didn't see cute doctors every day, and most of them were jerks. "Doctor Cook," said Cas, pulling an identification card from his trench coat pocket. She took it with her well manicured, mocha colored hands, barely suppressing an eye roll. "CDC." With that, she sat up a great deal straighter. "These are my associates, Doctors Fogerty and Clifford. We are here about your amnesia patients, Fulton, Carlson, Fredericks, and Gregory."_

"_One moment," she simpered, picking up the phone and paging the doctor in charge. "Doctor Burleson should be out in a moment." Cas shifted uncomfortably, before falling still, face set in a grim line. The wait was only a few moments, apparently the Center for Disease Control held some pull over even this small psychiatric ward._

"_Doctors," came a baritone voice from the hall to their left. It belonged to an older gentleman, tanned and healthy, despite his age. His brown eyes were dark behind his glasses, and his gray hair was thinning at his forehead. "How can I help the CDC today?"_

_Castiel stepped forward to shake his hand, something he had clearly been schooled on. "We have reason to believe that your patients have encountered a fungal infection at the marina. We have a group working there to stop the spread, but your patients are contaminated. We will be removing them to isolation until the spread can be stopped."_

_Doctor Burleson shifted, his hands fluttering nervously over his labcoat. "An infectious element. No, we can't have that here. We aren't equipped. This is...of course. We can have the paperwork completed in a few hours, but if you are prepared to transport them, I'm sure we can fax it to you."_

_Castiel smiled. "That will be adequate."_

"_I'm sorry," continued the doctor, "I'm not accustomed to dealing with this type of illness, physical rather than mental. I don't want to get sick. My patients depend on me. I don't want to bring anything home to my children…"_

"_I'm sure universal precautions will be adequate," said Sam. "We haven't seen any cases start outside the marina. We are just being thorough."_

"_Of course," repeated the doctor. "Thorough is good."_

"_But if you really want to be sure," added Dean, "I'd go for the enema. Flush out all those toxins." Doctor Burleson's eyes widened, and he nodded. Dean smirked as he disappeared down the hall to gather his patients._

The stolen ambulance rolled to a stop in the sandy gravel outside of the large warehouse. Dee emerged from the driver's seat with a light jump, and walked around to the back, shedding her lab coat as she walked. Two bangs on the back entrance, and the door opened, Sam's head peaking out. "All right, boys and girls. Mind your step. All the comforts of home, right this way."

Sam jumped out of the ambulance, and held his hand up for Ms. Gregory. She stepped out and took a tentative look around, pulling on the hem of her white hospital issue top. "This isn't...this isn't a hospital."

Sam smiled at her. "It's a mobile command center. The CDC doesn't have an office nearby, so we had to make due." She looked unsure, but didn't make to move away as Sam reached up for the next hand.

Officer Carlson ignored Sam's hand and stepped out himself. "Now I know this is no kind of official command post, mobile or not," he said to the taller man, "but I'm crazy so what the hell say do I have in this?"

Dee grinned at the officer, "Any other day I'd be happy to leave myself in your capable hands. But just for today, you need to let us fix you up, okay? Trust me, we'll have you back on the beat in no time." He reached out and clapped her on the back with his large chocolate brown hand.

"I'm going to trust you, because I'm too crazy not to."

"You're not crazy," interrupted Castiel. "You have experienced an unusual event. If you will give us a moment, we will explain."

"You'd better," called an angry voice from within the ambulance. "Sitting cramped in the back of this thing with four other people while you drive me to some crappy warehouse on the beach. You think I haven't seen those crime shows? You think I don't know what this is?"

"Mr. Fredericks, just calm down, please," said Sam, "I promise we will explain everything shortly. We just want everyone to settle comfortably, and by tomorrow, everything should be back to normal."

"Normal, for real?" asked Pete quietly. His lips were swollen and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot from lack of sleep. "You can make us not crazy? You can fix this?" He hadn't moved from sitting on one of the cots in the ambulance, so Dee climbed up inside and sat next to him, letting Sam and Cas lead the others into the warehouse.

"Yeah kid," she said quietly, sitting down beside him. "We're going to fix this. None of this is your fault. I don't know if you'll believe the truth, at least not yet, but yeah." She ran her fingers through her hair, and ignored the looks the young man was shooting at a few specific rainbows on her scrubs. Instead, she put a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly, and watched his eyes meet hers. "We're going to get you fixed up, and send you home."

_When Dean finally walked Pete into the warehouse, his ears were assaulted with shouts. Allan Frederick's voice bounced off of the empty gray walls, ricocheting back to everyone's ears painfully. "I don't know who you think you are, but if you think I'm just going to stand here while you cut us into little pieces, or worse!" Donna whimpered at that, playing with her red hair nervously. She and Carlson were sitting on a dusty bench, one of the few pieces of furniture in the room that didn't look like it was about to fall apart. There had been machinery in there at one time, and there were still bolts on the floor in the concrete, but it had been removed a while ago, to some other location or sold for scrap. Now there was just the bench, a few mismatched folding chairs, and a rickety card table that no one had thought worth salvaging._

"_Please, Mr. Frederick, calm down," came Sam's soothing tones. _

"_I will not calm down. The three of you, there are four of us! You can't do this!"_

"_You will calm down," intoned Castiel. He didn't raise his voice, but it was intimidating nonetheless. Something that didn't broker argument. Taking one look at his face, Allan Frederick paled and sat down next to the teacher. Dean nodded toward the bench and watched Pete sit down on it, flashing him a reassuring smile before joining the two people he trusted most in this world. Not that that was saying much, these days._

"_So...I guess you guys have figured out that something strange is going on here," said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should really be better at this by now," he muttered._

"_The other doctor said there was a fungal infection?" asked Donna. "Are we sick? Is that why we can't remember?"_

"_It is not an infection. You are not sick. You walked through a gateway into a parallel world. As did Dean. The other versions of yourselves from this world are walking around in your world, likely just as confused as you are." Donna choked a laugh. Damon Carlson looked thoughtful. Frederick's face turned red, but he stayed silent. Pete just put his face in his hands and quietly cried._

"_Good job, Cas," said Dean. "Way to break it to them gently."_

"_I see no reason to continue to withhold information we were planning on revealing anyway, Dean."_

"_Yeah, but you can't just drop it on their heads, man! What's wrong with you?"_

_Sam stepped forward, ignoring their arguments. He crouched in front of Donna, but addressed everyone on the bench. "I know its hard to believe. But believe me, I've seen stranger. He's not from here, either," he said, nodding over his shoulder at Dean. "My sister went through and I got him instead. But I'm going to get her back. And when we do that, we're going to get all of you home. You just have to trust us. Just a little longer."_

"_So when we get home, no one will know we were ever crazy?" asked Carlson._

"_I can't promise that," said Sam. Things seem to be running parallel. But what we plan on doing for those who come back here is creating a clean bill of health for them, proving that the fungal infection was short lasting and cured. They should be able to return to their lives."_

"_But what about us?" asked the bank manager hotly. Castiel and Dean stopped arguing then and returned their attention to the room._

"_Things aren't that different," said Dean. "My brother is looking for me. He'll do the same for you guys, or I will." _

"_But we have to wait until midnight. The sp- We can't open the gate until then. So I suggest you get some sleep." Sam unrolled some sleeping bags. They could have brought everyone back to the motel, but the manager would have said something. And besides, they only had about four hours until midnight._

_Carlson stood and reached out his hand to Donna, helping her up. He grabbed the nicest looking sleeping bag and led her over to a corner. "You know I'm an officer, ma'am. I may not have my weapon, but I promise to keep you safe." She smiled, trusting and hopeful._

_Everyone ignored Frederick as he harumphed his way over to a bag, complaining about the dust, the smell, the quality of the light. _

_Pete just sat on the bench, not moving. _

_After a few minutes, a shadow blocked the light coming from the high bulb, and he looked up to see Dean sitting on the bench beside him. "You okay, man?"_

"_I can't go back," Pete whispered._

"_What do you mean? Everything will be fine. It'll be awesome. You'll go home, see your family, move on, get a girlfriend...you'll be great kid."_

"_I can't- Did they tell you what I did?" he asked. "I mean, did the doctors tell you?"_

_Dean frowned and shook his head. "Whatever it was, kid, it can't be that bad." _

_The teenager curled in on himself, looking up to be sure everyone else was busy. "I killed him," he said in a tiny voice that echoed anyway in the emptiness of the room. "The other me, he had a brother. I didn't know, I swear I didn't know." He was shaking and sobbing, the pain too fresh to detach himself from. _

"_Hey, hey kid! It's okay, man." Dean held his shoulder as the boy rocked and cried. _

"_I swear I never killed anyone. I just came home, and he was there, and I didn't know him. I didn't see it was just a kid. I just saw someone coming up behind my mom. I thought it was my mom, and I hit him. I-I killed him. I killed this little seven year old kid. I'm a monster." He rubbed his face on the material of his shirt, trying to get rid of the worst of the snot._

"_Hey," said Dean forcefully. "I've seen monsters. You kid, you're not a monster. You made a mistake. And don't get me wrong, it's not okay. But what you did, you did for the right reasons. You did it for family. Now you try to get some sleep, and we'll wake you up when we're ready to get you home."_

_Dean stood to go find his own sleeping bag, and Pete took a deep breath. "No," he said. Dean turned and raised his eyebrows, waiting for the boy to continue. "I'm not going back. I'll stay here."_

"_Come on, man. You got family there. He's got family here. You can't just give that up. Not if we can get you home."_

"_You don't get it. He's going to come home and have two parents that blame him for killing his brother. Doesn't matter if they think it was because of some made up disease. They're going to think he did it. But he didn't. I did. So let him go live with my parents, happy and safe. I'll take the blame. I deserve it. And maybe I can patch things up with his family here, and maybe I can't. But I can't make someone else live with my mistakes. Even if it's me."_

_Dean laid a hand on Pete's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "You're a good man, Pete. I can't promise you anything besides the paperwork proving it was done while you were sick, something you couldn't help. If everything goes right, I'll be out of here in a few hours. But I want to say, good luck. You're alright." Pete smiled a little. "Now get some sleep," said Dean, tossing him one the last sleeping bag. The teenager slid into the bag and rolled over, waiting for sleep that still wouldn't come._

_A/N: sorry about the lack of action this chapter. Next chapter will pick up a bit. _


End file.
